


Dusk

by swamp_witchery



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, this is my first fic in ages and i don’t know how ao3 works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-19 22:20:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19365007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swamp_witchery/pseuds/swamp_witchery
Summary: caleb doesn’t know how to process his emotions and attempts to isolate himself from the group, mollymauk doesn’t let that happen





	Dusk

The night is cold, and the grazes on Caleb’s face are stinging. The night is dark, and Caleb is weary. 

He rests alone in the cart. His old, worn coat has never been effective at keeping the cold out, but he’s had it in his possession for too long to entertain the idea of getting rid of it. Tonight, however - Caleb concedes to himself as he watches his breath cloud before him - it might be nice to have a coat that actually functions as it’s supposed to.

The rest of the group are winding down for the evening, gathered tight-knit around the campfire. But there’s none of the usual laughter and jollity tonight. Even Jester is quiet. 

Well, as quiet as Jester ever gets.

The party had earlier been ambushed as they made their way along the Glory Run Road. Bandits. A particularly lethal group of bandits. The Nein had been outnumbered at least three to one, and there had been too many close calls for comfort. Jester’s magic was completely tapped from taking care of more pressing injuries than Caleb’s scrapes and most-likely-broken nose. (Jester has promised she would, “Probably definitely take care of it, like, tomorrow. Probably.”)

To be fair, he had got out of that fight significantly better off than Beau and Yasha, who had to contend with a broken hand and multiple crossbow bolts to the chest respectively. As it turns out, there are some perks to having a skill set that lends itself to ranged fighting. 

The remainder of the group had miraculously avoided sustaining damage as extensive as Beau and Yasha, but they had still been thoroughly put through the wringer. Fjord definitely has a concussion, and is pushing through it like a champ (albeit a rather woozy champ) and the party’s two tieflings look jostled and exhausted. Nott is fine, only shaken - and as of now? Highly intoxicated.

Caleb looks over to the group and feels the urge to join them, commiserate with them - but there’s a feeling in his stomach that stops him when he sees Mollymauk smile. Beaten, bruised Mollymauk smiling in the face of all their hardships. He’s speaking, but Caleb can’t make out the words. Even if he could hear what he was saying, the way that Mollymauk’s jewellery glitters in the low light is too distracting for him to focus on anything else.

Caleb feels a heat spreading over his cheeks and puts a hand to his face, stomach lurching. He can’t possibly go over there. For that brief moment, Caleb is too preoccupied with calming his palpitations to remember to stop staring at his friend - and that small slip is enough for Mollymauk to notice.

“Caleb!” Molly calls, flashing a warm smile in his direction, “Come sit by the fire, you’ll freeze over there.”

Scheisse. 

It is cold where Caleb is sitting. But nowhere near cold enough to make him face his anxieties.

Quickly averting his gaze, Caleb fumbles with his words for a moment before answering,  
“Uh - ahh - no thank you, Mr Mollymauk, das ist gut, I am fine over here.”

Caleb’s face feels like it’s on fire.

“If you say so, Mr Caleb.”

Scheisse, scheisse, gottverdammt.

Hiding his rapidly reddening face in his cold-stiffened hands, Caleb slides slowly down onto the floor of the cart until he’s lying flat on his back and out of sight. His heart is pounding harder than it ever has - and for Caleb, that’s saying something. Every attempt to calm it seems insurmountably futile and Caleb is beginning to accept that as long as Mollymauk is around, this is just his life now. Fuck.

Too wrapped up in his own all-consuming shame over this schoolboy crush, Caleb fails to notice light footsteps accompanied by the very faint, yet very familiar, jingle of jewellery approaching the cart.

“Hello down there.”

Caleb’s eyes snap open.

Instead of seeing the dark sky above him, a smiling purple face is looming upside down at him out of the gloom, tinkling jewellery and dark curls falling around his cheeks. Mollymauk is leaning against the side of the cart, looking down at Caleb with a soft expression of concern and amusement. Caleb’s heart is beating so fast that he’s not sure it hasn’t stopped completely.

“H-hallo, Mr Mollymauk,”

Mollymauk’s head tips to the side, sending his jewellery clinking, his expression bemused - but not unkind.

“Why do you always call me that?”

“Oh, ah-“

“Not that there’s a problem with that, though, I’m just curious as to why is all.”

Caleb blinks, avoiding Molly’s soft red gaze as best he can.

“It - ah - it,” he’s at a loss for words, and his brain is stalling from sheer proximity to his friend, “it just seems polite?”

Mollymauk’s eyebrow quirks upwards and he nods a little. Gods, he smells good, even after a day of fighting. It’s highly unfair.

“That’s very sweet, Caleb,” he says, “but you don’t need to worry about being polite around me.”

There’s the sound of clothing rustling and wood creaking as Molly pulls himself over the edge of the cart. He settles down to lie next to Caleb.

“That’s better.”

Caleb doesn’t reply, he just nods stiffly and pulls his arms tighter around his chest. Mollymauk is very close - very close - and he smells like jasmine. Prickling heat is once again crawling up his neck. Caleb can feel Molly’s gaze upon him.

“You can just call me Molly, you know.”  
His voice sounds like velvet. 

“O-ok, Mollymauk.”

Caleb hears Molly snort a small laugh beside him, his tail thuds gently into the side of the cart.

“Close enough.”

There’s some more rustling beside him. Caleb manages to muster enough courage to take a small peek at Molly - to find him propped up on one elbow and gazing down at him. His red eyes almost seem to glow in the dim light and it’s utterly enchanting. Now he can’t look away.

“There he is,” he says, a small smile playing across his lips, “how are you feeling?”

Caleb tries to swallow the lump in his throat but it stays resolutely there and completely inconvenient.

“I am alright,” he lies (it’s absolutely unconvincing), voice wobbling, “Why?”

Mollymauk doesn’t reply, instead he reaches out and places a gentle hand against Caleb’s clammy forehead. His rings are cold, but his skin is pleasantly warm. Unbidden, Caleb finds himself closing his eyes and leaning into the touch.

“Caleb.”

“Mm? Ja?”

“You’re freezing!” Molly sounds upset, “you’re absolutely not ok.”

“Ah,” Caleb’s voice is barely above a whisper, “No, I guess I am not.”

“Come here.”

Caleb opens his eyes in disbelief,

“What?”

Molly sighs in mock exasperation and reaches out his arms towards Caleb,

“I said, come here.”

The next thing he knows, Caleb is pulled up from the cart floor and enveloped in a warm embrace. His face is pressed into Mollymauk’s neck, the soft fabric of his coat smells faintly like spiced jasmine. It’s dizzying, and Caleb is frozen in shock. He lets his arms hang limp for a moment - what the hell is he supposed to do with his hands?

Mollymauk is so warm. How is he always so warm?

In a moment of uncharacteristic bravery, Caleb very hesitantly places his hands on Mollymauk’s back, blushing profusely.

“Oh man,” whispers Molly, “you’re heating up quick - I must be doing something right.”

Caleb can only nod into Molly’s neck and grip his fingers tighter into the fabric of his coat. The hairs on the back of Caleb’s neck stand on end as Mollymauk’s warm breath tickles his ear.

They sit there in silence for a while, sinking further into each other’s arms with each passing second, until Caleb breaks the silence.

“Thank you,” his voice is so quiet that it would be imperceptible to anyone else but Mollymauk, “Molly.”

Then the tears come, first slowly, then all at once.

Mollymauk gently pulls back from Caleb, so as to see his face. His brow creases with worry as he moves his hand to stroke the hair away from Caleb’s forehead.

“You have nothing to thank me for, Caleb.”

“Oh, but you have no idea, liebling.”

Molly, confused and concerned, begins to brush the tears from Caleb’s face, and his heart skips a beat when the wizard closes his eyes and once again leans into his touch. 

Despite the tears streaming down Caleb’s face, he looks calm for the first time since the ambush. In fact, Molly thinks, Caleb has never been this calm in all the time he’s known him. Strange.

Caleb exhales slowly, then moves to slip his arms around Mollymauk’s neck. Molly continues to gently stroke Caleb’s cheek long after his short-lived tears have dried.

“Molly?”

“Yes, Caleb?”

“Will you kiss me?”

It’s Mollymauk’s turn to be stunned - Caleb’s eyes are still closed and he’s pushing into Molly’s hand like a purring cat. It’s hard to believe that his ears aren’t playing tricks on him.

“Come again?”

“Kiss me, Mollymauk.”

It’s not a question this time.

He does. 

Molly leans in, and Caleb wraps himself further around him. His lips are deceptively soft.

Caleb’s heart is threatening to pop as he pushes his hands through Mollymauk’s thick curls, rubbing around the base of his horns. He’s wanted to do this almost since they met. He gasps a little into Molly’s lips as a strong tail curves around his waist, pulling him closer.

What is happening right now? Caleb can hardly think straight with Mollymauk’s lips on his - and he rather likes it that way.

They could have kept on this way until dawn - except that Jester had taken notice of them and took it upon herself to wolf-whistle at them.

“HEY, EVERYBODY! MOLLY AND CALEB ARE KISSING!”

They separate with a start, clashing together in their shock - Caleb’s hand immediately goes to his face.

“Ah! Meine Nase!”


End file.
